


Waiting to be Found

by growlery



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Forced Bonding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike and Kevin are perfect for each other; they’re one soul in two bodies, two sides of the same coin, etc. etc. Pick your euphemism, they’re soulmates and they’ve been bonded since birth, though they only Found each other recently. It’s a shame, then, that they can’t stand each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting to be Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelyhera](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lovelyhera).



> For lovelyhera at the sodamnskippy Christmas fic exchange. I kind of feel like I should apologise for this? I rewrote the ending a million times before I found something I was remotely happy with but this is still way more angsty than I intended it to be. I’m still not entirely sure it makes sense, and it’s probably nothing at all like what you wanted, but I really kind of hope you like it anyway. And if you hate it then, hey, there’s art and a mix to make up for it? :D

  


~

Kevin wakes and knows instantly that something is wrong. There’s a miserable ache in his chest, coiling and squeezing around his heart, and he can feel the empty space next to him like a tangible mass shifting in the air.

He sighs. He sighs and drags himself out of bed, stifling a yawn behind his hand, and pads out of the bedroom.

Mike’s sitting hunched over on the sofa, head cradled in his hands. Kevin curls up in the space next to him, rests his head against Mike’s shoulder. The knot’s already loosening, the ache gradually ebbing away.

Mike brings an arm up and around, not quite holding Kevin but not quite pushing him away, either. It’s just enough physical contact that neither of them go crazy with the uncontrollable desire to be close, to touch, but not enough for anything more.

“Hey,” Kevin ventures, after a moment, after the ache’s faded almost entirely.

“Hey.” It’s more of a sigh, of a quiet exhalation of breath than a proper spoken word. Mike sounds exhausted. (Mike _is_ exhausted; Kevin can feel it down to his bones, and it’s not the kind of tired you can fix with a good night’s sleep.) Kevin itches with the need to wrap himself around Mike, to pull him into his arms and squeeze all the hurt out of him.

He curls his hands into fists, tucks them underneath his knees. “I’m sorry,” he says, softly, and Mike shrugs, Kevin’s head slipping off his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he says, and even if their minds weren’t hard-wired together Kevin would know he wasn’t telling the truth. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We weren’t, fuck, we weren’t happy, the way things were. It would’ve been worse, if we had- if we’d tried to-”

Mike’s voice breaks on the last word and something in Kevin shatters. Mike swears under his breath and turns away, ducking his head, as if Kevin doesn’t already know exactly how he feels without having to read the expression on his face.

“Mike,” Kevin murmurs, reaching out for him. Mike rips himself away before Kevin can make contact, jumping to his feet and shaking his head. Kevin lets his arm drop.

“I’m, I’ve gotta-” Mike stumbles over the words but he needn’t bother; Kevin can feel _need to be alone, have to be alone_ thrumming through him like an electric current, and he tries not to let it sting.

Kevin nods and Mike exhales a ragged breath before he turns on his heel and strides out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Kevin winces. He presses his fingers to his temples, massaging at the spot that’s starting to throb.

He hauls himself to his feet when Mike gets far enough away that it’s unbearable, and all but stumbles into the kitchen to find something to relieve the pain.

~

Bill calls when Kevin’s washing last night’s dishes in the sink, three hours after Mike stormed out of their house.

“Mike’s not here,” Kevin tells him, tucking the phone under his ear.

“Yeah, I figured. I wanted to talk to you, actually,” Bill says. Kevin hears him take in a deep breath, and then he’s saying, tentative, “Is he okay?”

“The band he’s been a part of for eight years just broke up,” Kevin snaps, “how do you think he is?”

Bill doesn’t say anything and Kevin instantly feels contrite. He knows this isn’t Bill’s fault, knows that none of this is anyone’s fault. He can’t help but want someone to blame for it all but it isn’t remotely fair to point the finger at Bill.

Kevin sighs. “He will be,” he says, setting down the plate he’s spent the last five minutes cleaning.

Bill makes a noise, the verbal equivalent of a grimace. “Yeah, sorry. It’s not going to be particularly nice for you for a while; Mike has a terrible habit of bottling all the bad feeling inside until he explodes.”

Kevin nods, says, “I know,” because he does. Mostly he tries not to look too hard into Mike, under the carefully arranged layers of normality. He’s too scared of what he’ll see.

“Of course you do, sorry,” Bill mutters, gently chastising himself, and Kevin’s lips tug up at the corners.

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s not like you don’t know him better than I do, anyway.”

“He’ll be back soon,” Bill says, and his easy confidence makes something loosen in Kevin’s gut. “Where’d he go?”

Kevin screws his eyes shut and thinks _Mike_. The answering surge of feeling is a muddle of anger and sadness and hurt, but Kevin shifts it aside and concentrates harder.

He frowns, then tries again. And again. And again.

“I don’t know,” he says, wonderingly. “I don’t- that’s never happened before, I don’t- I didn’t think it was possible.”

Bill sighs, mutters something Kevin can’t quite make out. “It’s definitely possible,” he says, louder this time, “but it’s also incredibly hard and not usually worth the effort.”

Kevin flinches. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it again, then squeezes his eyes shut and leans back against the counter.

“Right,” he says after a moment, his voice carefully blank, “I see.”

“It’s not you,” Bill says, gently, “it’s-”

“Him?” Kevin finishes with a laugh, bitter and soft. “I know, okay? I know how much he hates this.”

(Except _this_ sounds far too much like _me_ and Kevin’s voice wobbles at the end. He hates this too, hates the helplessness and the utter lack of privacy and the constant, persistent note of _Mike_ that shoots up through his veins and echoes in his bones.)

Bill sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Kevin echoes, not nearly as vicious as he intended to be.

“He just needs to get used to it,” Bill says. “He thought he was never going to be Found, and then you came along, and- he just needs time.”

Kevin’s throat is tight when he forces out, “It’s been _months_ ,” and he knows he sounds scratchy and desperate but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I know,” Bill says, exhaling sharply. “Mike’s just- he isn’t like most people.”

Kevin barks out a laugh. “You don’t have to tell me that, trust me.”

Bill’s silent for such a long time Kevin thinks he’s hung up on him. But then he says, quietly, “Look after him, will you?”

Kevin nods, remembers Bill can’t see him and says, “Of course.”

He doesn’t move for a long time after Bill hangs up, until Riley noses at his ankles and whines. Kevin stoops to the ground to pull her up into his arms, strokes his fingers through her fur until his breathing evens out.

~

Mike doesn’t come back that night. Kevin curls up on the sofa with Riley cradled in his lap and waits, watching the shadows lengthen and retreat as the sun moves up out of the horizon. He must drift off some point after sunrise, because the next thing he’s aware of is Mike shaking him awake with a hand on his shoulder, of the calm stillness Mike’s proximity always grants him.

“What?” Kevin mumbles, as coherent as he gets this soon after being woken up. He squints at the clock mounted on the wall and makes a pitiful sound; it’s far too early to not still be unconscious.

The expression on Mike’s face is unreadable, and Kevin isn’t awake enough to be able to see any deeper. “You fell asleep on the sofa,” he says, his voice flat.

Kevin sits up abruptly, gripping Riley tight so she doesn’t tip off his lap. “I was waiting for you to come back,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. “You... I didn’t know where you’d gone. I was worried.”

Mike’s face stays blank, but he moves his mouth around like he’s trying to say something but isn’t sure how. Finally, he says, “Let’s get you to bed. You look like you’re gonna fucking collapse,” and Kevin doesn’t even flinch a little when Mike swears. He counts it as personal growth.

Mike helps Kevin to his feet with an arm looped around his shoulders and fingers gripping his wrist. He releases Kevin’s wrist as he steadies himself, but not his shoulders, and he lets Kevin lean into him as he walks them both to their bedroom. Kevin has to squeeze his eyes shut and remind himself repeatedly how much Mike hates him so he doesn’t enjoy it too much.

Mike lays him gently on their bed, pulling the blanket up to cover him. Kevin closes his eyes and rolls over, and he isn’t even sure he’s still awake when he hears Mike say, “You shouldn’t have worried about me. I didn’t want you to. I didn’t think you would.”

“S’okay,” Kevin mumbles, and because he is likely not awake any more, he continues, “Always worry about you. Always, have to know where you are, or it- the thing, inside, it goes all wibbly when you’re not around.”

Mike goes utterly still next to him. Kevin can tell because the hand that was carding through his hair has frozen against his scalp.

“Mike?” he says, eyes fluttering open, and Mike shifts, closing the distance between them. His hand trails down to cup Kevin’s neck, stroke the soft skin at his nape, then drifts further to loosely curl around Kevin’s waist.

“Kevin,” he says, and, “fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” and, “Kevin,” again, but softer this time, sweeter, and now Kevin knows for sure he isn’t awake because Mike’s never looked at him like that, so open and gentle and kind.

“S’okay,” Kevin repeats, somehow managing a tired smile. “G’night, Mike.”

He drifts off like that, Mike’s breath tickling his face, his arm a warm, welcome press against his side.

~

Mike’s already awake when Kevin stumbles out of bed the next morning, huddled over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. His eyes are hollow and pulled down at the corners, and he looks nearly as tired as he did before he stormed out yesterday. Kevin wonders if he slept at all last night.

Mike nods a greeting at him as he slumps into the seat opposite him, and pushes a plate of buttered toast across the table.

“Thanks,” Kevin says, a surprised smile spreading on his face. One of the corners of Mike’s lips hitches in response, just a little, and then he drops his gaze back to his coffee.

They sit in silence, but it isn’t as uncomfortable as it could be. Used to be. Kevin opens his mouth, thinks about trying to fill the space between them with something, but it’s not like they have all that much in common, except music. He’s not sure that’s a particularly safe topic any more, though.

(Kevin kind of really wants to ask where Mike was yesterday, but that _definitely_ isn’t.)

In the end, it’s Mike who breaks the silence.

“I think Riley wants to go for a walk,” he says, nodding down at the puppy curling herself at his feet. He looks up and arches an eyebrow at Kevin, as if in silent challenge.

“Okay,” Kevin says, after he’s swallowed the mouthful of toast. “Do you wanna come with?”

Mike’s answering smile lights up his eyes and it maybe makes Kevin’s day, maybe.

They end up in a park a few minutes walk from their house. It’s quiet and secluded enough that no one’ll bother them even if they are recognised. (It’s not exactly likely; Kevin’s the least interesting third of a formerly world-famous band and Mike’s band, while successful, never got anywhere near the same level of attention. People aren’t exactly breaking down their door or camping on their lawn to get an exclusive on their (not-so) torrid love affair.)

There’s a slight chill in the air, and Kevin shivers as they walk past a line of trees that are steadily shedding their leaves, growing bare and stark. Mike knocks their shoulders gently, rubbing warmth into Kevin’s arm where they’re touching, and quirks his lips at him in what might be more of a smile than a smirk.

Kevin smiles back, something sweet coiling in his gut. It gives him just enough courage to say, “Bill called while you were out yesterday.” He watches Mike out of the corner of his eye, watches for his carefully controlled reaction. “He wanted to know how you were.”

Mike doesn’t say anything. He’s staring really intensely straight ahead, gaze not wavering for a second.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kevin ventures, and Mike laughs, low and bitter.

“Not really,” he says, shifting on the spot. “You already know what happened, don’t you?”

Kevin doesn’t say that gleaning the bare bones of the proceedings from a magical bond neither of them wanted in the first place is not the same as them actively, physically talking about it. He doesn’t say that he’d like to _hear_ it, not just feel it.

He doesn’t say that it might help.

He says, “I don’t know where you were last night.”

He doesn’t mean to, but his mouth opens and the words tumble out like they’ve been struggling to get free all morning.

Mike blinks at him, shocked. “Nic’s,” he says, then bites his lip and looks away.

For a moment, Kevin thinks Mike’s talking about Nick, his little brother Nick. But that doesn’t make any sense because Nick is halfway across the world right now, so that must mean Mike is talking about-

“Nicole?” Kevin says, brow furrowing. “Why? I didn’t know you were friends.”

“We aren’t,” Mike says. “I just... I don’t know. I just found myself at her place. She let me stay until I calmed down enough to go home. I asked her not to call you,” he continues, not quite looking at Kevin, “I didn’t want you to- I didn’t want to be found.”

Kevin’s chest constricts involuntarily. “Oh.”

“Fuck,” Mike mutters, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “She told me I’m shit at this. I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Kevin says quickly, arms tightening around Riley. His fingers curl into her fur, and the contact grounds him. “I get it, it’s fine, you don’t have to explain.”

Mike bites his lip. He lifts a hand, like he’s reaching out to touch Kevin, but then Riley starts barking and he drops it and turns away.

~

Kevin texts Nicole as they’re walking back to their house, tapping out _thanks for looking after him_ with shaking fingers. His phone buzzes with a reply just as they’re getting through the door. _No problem. But seriously, you guys need to talk._

Kevin snorts, and Mike tosses a curious glance over his shoulder as he heads into the living room. _About what?_ he types back. _We have fascinating discussions on such topics as the weather and what brand of cereal to buy, what more is there to talk about?_

He wanders into the kitchen to feed Riley and see what he can make for dinner since it’s his turn to cook (read: heat up fridge-flavoured leftovers) and he’s just getting yesterday’s pizza out of the microwave when his phone buzzes, twice.

_That’s not what I meant and you know it. FEELINGS, JONAS. Have a heart to heart, confess your undying love and that you’d like to see him naked so your souls can properly bond and you don’t have to be glued together 24/7 any more._

Just below it, there’s another text which reads _I’m serious. If you two don’t fucking sit down and actually TALK to each other I’ll come over and smack your heads together until you stop being stupid._

She really, really will, is the thing, and that prospect is considerably less appealing than actually talking to Mike, enough that he sighs and trudges into the living room where Mike is killing zombies or aliens or something on the X-Box.

“Pizza,” Kevin says, putting the plate of it down on the coffee table, and Mike makes a happy noise and pauses his game to grab a slice. “Also,” Kevin continues, settling at the opposite end of the sofa, “Nic thinks we should talk.”

Mike freezes, slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. He takes a measured bite, chews it for a long minute, then swallows hard. “About what?” he asks, carefully neutral, and Kevin waves a vague hand around.

“You know,” he says, trying to laugh and failing miserably, “feelings. Specifically, for each other. About this. Thing. Between us.”

Mike stares at him, unblinking. “We don’t need to talk about it,” he points out, still in that flat tone Kevin hates so much. “I already know how you feel, you already know how I feel, what is there to talk about?”

“I think that’s sort of the point,” Kevin says, shifting uncomfortably. He wishes he could take Mike’s hand and hold it in his, squeeze his fingers and stroke his palms, but right now he’d settle for just letting their thighs brush through their jeans. He stays where he is. “I think she thinks it might help.”

“It won’t,” Mike says, and Kevin narrows his eyes.

“She also said-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kevin,” Mike cuts in, blowing out an exasperated breath, “don’t you have a single thought that isn’t someone else’s?”

And that stings, more than Kevin is willing to admit, so he’s a lot more vicious than he means to be when he bites out, “I happen to think she has a point. We do need to talk. It isn’t healthy to just, just let everything pass between us without ever actually _talking_ about it.”

Mike narrows his eyes. “Talking isn’t going to change anything,” he says. “Talking isn’t going to make it go away. It’s not going to fucking _help_.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Kevin snaps. “We can’t keep on like this, we can’t-”

“Why not?” Mike’s eyes are wild, edged with something Kevin doesn’t recognise. “We’re doing fine, aren’t we?”

Kevin chokes out a laugh. “You never let me be around you unless you absolutely have to, you’re always pushing me away, you try so hard to keep me out even though it hurts you too, I know it does, and I don’t understand _why_ -”

“This is fucking hard for me, okay?” Mike snaps, and Kevin’s blood _boils_.

“Do you really think it’s easy for me either?” His voice has gone cold, unrecognisable to his own ears. “Do you really think it’s easy being bonded to someone who hates you?”

Mike’s eyes fly wide, and all the anger promptly drains out of his face.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, slowly. “You- fuck, you really think that?”

Kevin doesn’t say anything, can’t. He’s shaking too hard, all over, arms curled into tight little fists at his sides.

“Fuck,” Mike repeats. “Kevin, I-”

“Don’t,” Kevin manages, shaking his head violently. “Just, you don’t, you don’t have to pretend, I don’t-”

“Kevin,” Mike says, his voice softer than Kevin’s ever heard it, and Kevin can’t deal with this right now. He stumbles back, nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to flee the room.

His head starts pounding almost instantly but he ignores it and keeps going, doesn’t stop until he gets to the spare bedroom they never use because they can’t sleep properly apart. Kevin fumbles the door shut and leans back against it, his breath coming raspy and harsh. The pain is verging on unbearable, sharp searing blinding _awful_ through his skull. Kevin breathes out a moan as he clutches at his head, willing the pain away.

It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work and he slumps to the ground and tucks his knees into his chest, black spots hovering at the edges of his vision. It’s never been this bad before. He’s never felt like his entire body’s splitting apart before, like he’s being torn to pieces from the inside out.

There’s a sharp spike of pain through his skull and Kevin actually cries out, can’t help himself. It hurts so much he prays to the heavens for death and salvation, rocking backwards and forwards, but before anyone has a chance to respond he hears the creak of the door opening and a sharp intake of breath. Then there are footsteps falling fast and muffled against the carpeted floor, a hand on his shoulder, a panicked voice Kevin barely recognises as Mike’s saying his name over and over and over.

Kevin makes a sound, a tiny, barely-controlled whimper, and allows Mike to pull him up and into his arms, burying his head in Mike’s chest. He inhales, the sharp, familiar smell of Mike filling his lungs, and when he exhales some of the pain goes with it. He stays there, hands fisted in Mike’s shirt, Mike’s arms wrapped around him, until his head clears enough that he can think again.

He doesn’t move, though. He’s comfortable, curled up against Mike, even though he’s sort of getting a crick in his neck from the position he’s arranged in, even though he knows he ought to move before Mike pushes him away.

“Sorry,” Kevin mumbles, voice muffled because he’s still got his head resting against Mike’s chest. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No, Kevin, don’t-” Mike bites off a sigh, presses a kiss to the top of his head. “It was my fault. I upset you, and I- I’m sorry, fuck. Nic is going to kill me.”

Kevin lifts his head to frown at him. “Why?”

“She threatened me with grievous bodily harm if I ever made you cry again,” Mike says matter-of-factly.

Kevin’s frown deepens, and Mike huffs out a laugh before brushing his thumb over Kevin’s cheeks. His eyes are as soft as his touch and Kevin has to look away.

“I really don’t hate you,” Mike says, letting his hand rest against the side of Kevin’s face. “She told me I should tell you that too, but I didn’t really think- why would you think I hate you?”

He sounds genuinely confused and Kevin swallows, closing his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to start, how to describe the disgusted look Mike gets in his eyes sometimes, the way he flinches away from Kevin whenever he tries to touch him.

“It’s been months,” Kevin says quietly. “It’s been months and you still don’t- don’t want me and that’s fine, that’s okay, it happens, I just-”

“I don’t want you,” Mike repeats, and then he laughs, shaking his head. “Kevin. Do you really think I have the luxury of not wanting you?”

“But you don’t _want_ to want me,” Kevin says, voice rising at the end. “You have to but you don’t-”

“Not what I meant,” Mike cuts in, something fierce and unfamiliar in his eyes, and then he fists his hands in Kevin’s shirt and yanks him forward.

Kevin actually _groans_ when their lips meet, it feels so good. Mike’s grip slackens momentarily before tightening again and he tugs the shirt up, cursing when it gets stuck somewhere around Kevin’s shoulders. Kevin pulls away, grinning when Mike makes a noise of protest, and wriggles out of the t-shirt himself, tossing it across the room.

Mike’s eyes are dark and intent when Kevin meets his gaze again, raking over Kevin’s bare skin, and he fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest. He steps forward, slowly, into Mike’s space, and Mike visibly swallows.

There are a few seconds where they just stand there, staring into each others’ eyes like the worst kind of cliché, Mike’s eyes dark and heavy. Kevin tears his gaze away and attaches them at the lips instead, fast and frantic and hungry, hungry for something it feels like he’s been missing his entire life. The low whine he gets out of Mike in response shivers through Kevin’s body, heady and sharp, and he has _no_ idea why they’ve never done this before.

“We should, fuck, move this to the bed,” Mike gets out, “we should-”

Kevin swallows the rest of whatever he’s trying to say with his mouth, nipping at Mike’s lower lip. “We should definitely fuck,” he murmurs and Mike huffs out a laugh that edges on hysterical.

Kevin drags his fingers down Mike’s chest, pressing lightly through the material of his shirt, digging in just a little, enough to make Mike suck in a breath through his teeth. He stops when he reaches the waistband of Mike’s jeans and Mike makes a noise of protest, but Kevin just grins, yanking the shirt up and over Mike’s head.

And then he has to take a second to just _look_ , to take in the sharply defined planes of Mike’s chest, the curved muscle of his guitarist arms, the pink nubs of his nipples. There’s a dark curl of hair trailing under the waistband of his jeans and Kevin wants to trace it with his fingers, follow it underneath and-

“Kevin?” Mike prompts, and Kevin feels himself flush all over. He curses himself internally but when he lifts his eyes to Mike’s face Mike is grinning at him, and Kevin grins back, the tension draining out of him.

He isn’t sure which of them steps forward first or if it’s a joint effort, but either way they’re kissing and it’s nowhere near as desperate as before. There’s something sweeter about the lazy way Mike licks into his mouth, like he’s learning the ridges and contours with his tongue, like he could do it forever. Sweet is good, sweet is lovely, sweet makes something in Kevin’s chest swell until it feels like it might burst, but it isn’t what either of them needs right now.

“Mike,” Kevin murmurs, trailing his fingers down Mike’s chest to hook his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. “You said something about a bed?”

Mike swallows, hard, and a lazy grin spreads across Kevin’s face. He tugs Mike back towards the bed and stumbles against it, chuckling against Mike’s lips, and they go down together, landing in an awkward heap, legs tangling together.

Kevin giggles, a knee-jerk reaction, and Mike gives him this smile, so soft and warm and fond it makes something unfurl inside Kevin that’s been coiled up for far, far too long. He reaches up, links his arms behind Mike’s head and drags him down to kiss him again.

~

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, after.

They’re curled up into each other on the narrow bed; Kevin’s got his head pillowed on Mike’s chest, one of Mike’s arms holding him in place. There’s a pleasant buzz singing through Kevin’s bones, a gentle curl of something around his chest, and his skin tingles everywhere Mike’s touching him. Kevin’s never felt so content, so at peace with the universe and his place in it. There’s still a thread of pain lancing through him, foreign and familiar all at once, but it’s muted now, like it’s buried itself under the haze of sheer contentedness enveloping them both.

“What for?” Kevin asks, tilting his head back to look Mike in the eye. He’s almost certain he knows the answer, but he wants to hear Mike say it.

Mike traces a spiral on his back with a finger, pressing in when he gets to the centre. “Everything,” he says finally. “I’m sorry I took so long to be sure.”

“I’m sorry too,” Kevin says, smiling ruefully. “I should’ve trusted you more, let you have your space. I was just-” _scared_ , he finishes silently, and Mike lays his palm down flat against his skin.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling into a smile, “me too.”

~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks are due to my rl best friend, who most probably will not read this because she does not understand my fierce and abiding love of Kevin, bless her, but she still read this over for me weeks ago when I had a panic about it not working and told me to stop being silly and fix it, then proceeded to nag me ‘til I did. Thanks, Y, you’re an absolute sweetheart.


End file.
